


Third Wheel

by CheyanneChika



Series: Hamilton Vs. The 21st Century [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Crack, Flashbacks, Gen, Hooray for Wikipedia, Modern Era, Plot, Resurrection, time travel-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-06-08 06:38:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6843271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheyanneChika/pseuds/CheyanneChika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abbie and Crane are under the Trinity Church Cemetery for reasons.  Guess who's coming back to life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

“Crane,” Abbie growled as she stepped back from the trembling earth above them.  It had taken nearly an hour of wandering through a series of secret tunnels under the Trinity Church Cemetery to reach a small cavern that Abbie was fairly certain should have been found at some point in the last two hundred and fifty years but whatever.  Between everything that had happened in the last year, she was done questioning this biblical magic crap.

“Yes, Leftenant?”  Crane’s voice was steady, but had taken on that slightly nervous tone that suggested they should start running.

“I’m not doing zombies again.”  If this shaking was indeed from corpses trying to escape their coffins, she was not ready to deal with it with only Crane as backup and no napalm on hand.

“I do not believe this is zombie—” before he could finish, three coffins dropped out of the top of the cavern and slammed into the ground.  Two broke on impact while the third’s top merely sprang free.  Ichabod automatically reached out and pulled Abbie away from them.

“I’m fine.”  She tugged out of his grip and edged forward, breathing shallowly as the dirt settled and the rumbling stopped.  She peered down at the first coffin, one of the broken ones.  Inside was a clearly unmoving and very decayed female body.  “Well, this one is still dead, by the looks of it.”  She stepped gently over it and moved to the next one while Crane examined the first one.  “This one too.”  Sure enough, the exposed body in the middle coffin was male and still very dead.

A wretching sound filled the room and Abbie rolled her eyes.  “Really, Crane?”  Honestly, he hadn’t had a problem with bodies before.

“That isn’t me,” Crane said, making Abbie jump.  She whipped to face him as he pointed his flashlight at the final coffin.  The sounds were echoing through the room, making it impossible to mark the source of the sound, but that coffin was definitely shifting.

Abbie drew her gun.  “FBI! Stay where you are.”

Abruptly, the coffin stilled, then a voice, raspy and slightly high, said, I appear to be stuck and, therefore, not going anywhere.”

“Can zombies speak that eloquently?” Crane asked.  “I thought they all just grunted and moaned.”

“You’re one to talk.”  Abbie sighed and holstered her gun.  “Give us sec, we’ll get you out.”

“Oh yes, do take your time.”

Ichabod raised an eyebrow.  Abbie gave him a half smile and stepped over the second coffin.  She reached the third and bent down to tug on the section that had splintered when it hit the ground.  Crane joined her and tugged on the nailed shut lid until it, too, splintered and gave way, partially exposing a very much alive man in his early fifties and dressed, well, dressed like a revolutionary, though his clothes were of a much better make than the ones Ichabod had been resurrected in.

“Good day,” the man said politely.  "Do help me up."

“Good day,” Ichabod responded automatically, extending a hand.  The other man took it and was pulled to his feet.  He wobbled slightly and staggered against Crane when he stepped out of the coffin.

“Yeah, hey, what were you doing in that coffin?” Abbie asked, not even trying to speak like anything other than a product of the 20th and 21st century.

The man looked at where he assumed voice’s owner was for he could see next to nothing save a bright blur on the ground that swayed slightly.

“I…a coffin?”  He glanced down and saw the crate he’d been trapped in was, indeed, coffin-like as the brightness travelled over it.  “I do not know.  Being dead, I suspect.  Though how I’ve come to be here…” he trailed off, trying to remember.  “I…I died.  I must have.  Burr shot me and then there was Eliza and Angelica and then, yes, I must have died.  Of all the foolishness.”  He let out a slightly hysterical laugh.

“Burr?” Abbie asked.  “As in Aaron Burr?”

Before he could answer, the light was shone, blindingly, in his face. 

“Oh dear,” Ichabod murmured.

“Damn,” Abbie whispered at the same moment.

Alexander Hamilton raised a hand to protect his eyes.

 


	2. Chapter 2

When Crane implied that there were tunnels under Trinity Church and that Washington had spoken of them as a safe place for the future, though not for now, Abbie had been suspicious.

It didn’t help that Crane had no idea what they’d find, but insisted on going down there anyway.

And now she was looking at yet another resurrected revolutionary.

“Do you carry the sun with you?” Hamilton asked, still flinching away from the light.  “Or have I been trapped so long that my eyes will no longer adjust?”

“Could be both,” Abbie told him, lowering her light as Crane lowered his. 

“That predicament seems both unlikely and unpleasant.  I shall live in hope that this is temporary.”  He looked about.  “What is this place?”

“It is a cavern beneath Trinity Church Cemetery,” Crane said. 

Hamilton stiffened at the British accent in a way he hadn’t when Abbie spoke.  “Apologies, we’ve not had a chance for proper introductions.  Shall we move to a slightly brighter area, not under a cemetery, perhaps?”

“That might be difficult,” Abbie grumbled.  “It took us an hour to get here.  This place is a maze and all dead ends, like they were just told to stop digging and start somewhere else.”

“It’s not a maze, Miss,” Hamilton said absently. 

“It’s not?” That was Crane.

“The entrance is under the sacristy, yes?”  Without waiting for a response, he continued, “It was supposed to be a place to hide anyone who couldn’t escape the island if it was overrun again.”

“But it was never used?” Abbie asked.

“Not that I recall,” Ichabod replied.

“No, the project was abandoned after Major Arnold defected.  He knew of the tunnels and we couldn’t risk him telling the Redcoats.”

“So the only way out is back the way we came,” Abbie muttered darkly.

“Never fear, I know the way, though, if I could borrow your sunbeam, sir,” he addressed Crane for the first time, “I can take us back to the sacristy.”

In the little light that made out the shapes before him, Alexander saw the smaller one jerk her head and the taller one nod in acquiescence.  The light Crane’s hand fell to the ground and a warm metal tube was pressed Hamilton’s one.  He flicked the light up into the other man’s face and jerked back at the same moment as Ichabod, though for different reasons.  Ichabod, too, had grown use to the dark.

“I say, you remind me of someone I knew once.”  The light trailed over to Abbie, though he was more careful not to blind her.  His eyebrows went up at her her no nonsense expression and the tight jacket that snugged around her torso.  Despite his inability to keep his political opinions to himself, he did remember how to behave decorously with young ladies, regardless of skin color.  “You however, Miss, I am completely estranged from.”  He held out his hand and Abbie took it.  He bowed low and pressed a feather-light kiss to her knuckle.  “Alexander Hamilton, at your service.”

Behind him, Ichabod rolled his eyes at the over exerted gallantry; never mind that he would’ve done the same had he not been arrested.

“Abbie Mills,” Abbie replied, torn between sniggering and feeling a bit flattered.  She swallowed back both reactions and instead, said, “You know the way out?”

“Of course, my dear friend suggested that I should put the cannons down here next time instead of leaving them in the town square.”  Flipping the light around, Hamilton nimbly stepped around her and paused at the middle coffin.  “I wonder if he was also to wake with me.”

“Do you know him?” Abbie asked.

“Apologies, but no.”  He moved to the first coffin.  “Angelica,” he whispered, staring down at the illuminated corpse.

“Angelica?” Crane asked.

“Schuler.  My wife’s sister.  That was her favorite dress.”  He glanced down at himself for the first time and saw his clothes were just as threadbare.  “How long has it been?”

“Over two hundred years,” Crane said bluntly.  He’d been plunged into the depths head first, after all.  Hamilton deserved no less.  “More for me as I died during the revolution.”

Hamilton spun back and pointed the light once more in Crane’s face.  “It is you, then, Ichabod Crane.”

Crane bowed his head in acknowledgement.

Hamilton smiled with a hint of cheek.  “I asked the General why he seemed to keep you closer than any of the other spies.  He said Providence had something else in mind for you.  He was saddened when you died, but he seemed to expect it.”

Crane blinked rapidly, though he blamed it on the bright light later.  “You said you know the way out?” he repeated, tersely.

Hamilton’s lips twitched.  “Yes.  Follow me, Miss Mills, Captain Crane.”

Abbie waited for Ichabod to join her before following and whispering, “Cannons?”

Crane frowned for a moment as he recalled events he had no personal involvement in.  “Hamilton led a rabble of young men who wanted to fight the British into an abandoned battery to steal their cannons.  The British had set out into the harbor but sent a barge back to attack them.  If I recall correctly, they left with more than twenty cannons, which was most of what the battery held.”

Abbie looked at him with raised brows.  “Rabble?”

“Well,” Crane muttered darkly, “They had no official affiliation with the American Army, so yes, rabble.”

She chuckled.  “If you say so.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please let me know your thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I got distracted.

_“If you get it into your head to steal more cannons, we can probably stash ‘em down here.”_

_Alexander grinned at Hercules as the man pulled him out of the tunnel.  “I wonder how deafening cannon fire sounds underground.”_

_Hercules shuddered.  “Guns are loud enough.”_

The walk took little more than ten minutes with Hamilton in the lead.  Having regained his land legs, he led Crane and Abbie at a light trot.  “Mind the root,” he called over his shoulder as he slowed to a stop where he knew there should have been a rope to climb out.

“The what?” Crane asked, even as he tripped over a tree root that curled up from the ground.

Abbie’s laugh echoed against Crane’s body staggering into a wall to keep from hitting the ground. 

“That root,” Hamilton called back.  While the two behind him fumbled about, Alex took a moment to examine the thing in his hand.  He couldn’t call it a lantern, nor a torch, for there was no open flame and—he carefully placed his fingertips in the light, then, feeling nothing, he pressed them to the hard surface of the light’s emitter—it produced almost no heat!  He pointed it at the ground and found a very frayed and aged rope pooling against the wall.

“Snapped the rope, did you?” Hamilton asked.

Ichabod frowned.  “There was no rope.”

“Then how did Miss Mills get down?”

“I jumped.  Same as Crane.”

“In skirts—” Hamilton stopped and trained the light on Abbie’s legs in tight denim.  “Ah, of course.”

“You’re a lot less phased by this than Crane was.”

“Yes, well, Miss Ross was forever scandalizing the men and camp followers by running about in breeches.  Washington sometimes used her to gauge the temerity of soldiers he wanted to promote.  If she upset them then they weren’t worth making more important.”

Abbie smirked.  “Gimme a leg up.”

Crane stepped forward but Hamilton was ahead of him.  He knelt and cupped his hands.  She stepped up and pushed open the panel in the floor before pulling herself out.  She reached down to pull Hamilton out as he jumped to catch the frame of the entry.  Crane didn’t say anything about it, but pointedly reached up to pull himself out of the hole without having to jump.

“Showoff,” Abbie grumbled, letting the panel fall back into the floor.

“Well, this hasn’t changed, overmuch,” Hamilton murmured.  He looked up at a lamp that filled the room with light in the same way the contraption in his hand had lit the tunnels.  Speaking of which, “How do you extinguish this?”

“Press the button on the other end.”

Hamilton flipped the device around and saw a black button.  He pressed in the light vanished.  “Ah.”  He touched his chest pocket and withdrew a journal.  “Have you a quill, I desire to know how this—”

“Flashlight,” Crane told him.

“—this flashlight works.”

Abbie stared.  “They buried you with a notebook?”

“Of course.  I’m fairly sure I stipulated that in my will.”

Abbie’s eyes made for the ceiling.  Somehow, she was fairly certain that Hamilton would be even worse than Crane.

“Shall we?” he said, heading for the door.

“Lieutenant,” Crane snapped, making the older man pause.  “I was rather shocked by the changes two centuries made, perhaps we should go over a few things before leaving the church, and get you some clothes that are less…aged.”

Hamilton hesitated but finally acquiesced.  “That maybe for the best.”  Then he looked Ichabod up and down.  “Though you seem to manage.”

Crane’s mouth thinned.  “I have been informed that I do not fit in though I refuse to change my look to suit that of the current fashions.”

“I tried to make him wear pants like mine.  He didn’t go for it.”

Alex looked down at her “pants” with only a little flush curling up his neck, then at Crane’s breeches, which looked out of date, even to him, then back to Abbie.  He couldn’t help it.  He laughed.  It was a little hysterical and he quickly hushed himself, but he felt like he hadn’t laughed in years.  “I’d imagine they would not suit him.”

“Indeed,” Ichabod griped.

“Crane, can you tell him about lights and phones.  I’ll go raid the donations clothes.”

Crane opened his mouth to argue but at her stern expression, he nodded.  “Very well.”

“Stay here,” she ordered finally and then left the sacristy.

“I say, that girl could take Jefferson down a peg or two with just a look.”

“She could, indeed.”  Ichabod had a wistful smile on his face.


	4. Chapter 4

Hamilton smiled slightly and clapped his hands together.  “You must tell me more about her, though at a later date.  I sense I must have much to learn.  I really do require a quill.”

"Oh!" Ichabod automatically fumbled about his person for a pen, producing one from his jacket pocket.  “They’ve found better means of storing ink.”  He held it out, pressing the top to produce the nib.  “It’s inside the pen.”

Alex tentatively took the pen and pressed it to the page he opened.  A swift scrawl made quick observation of the flashlight and formfitting trousers.  “Now, Miss Mills mentioned something about phones? A phones?”

“Ah yes.”  Crane reached into another pocket of his coat and pulled out his smart phone.  “This is a communications device, a smartphone.  You can contact anyone else with a similar device anywhere in the world for the cost of a, rather outrageous, monthly subscription.”  He activated the touch screen and held it out.

“Amazing.  First, how long does it take to relay the communication and second, how?”

“Regarding the second, I still do not understand, save that all of the devices somehow reach a much bigger device that revolves around the planet, much like the moon does.  As to the first,” he tapped the screen.  Abbie’s face smiled up at them as it called, disappearing when her voice said, “Already, Crane?”

“Just demonstrating the uses of cellular phones, Leftenant.”

Hamilton clapped his hands.  “Imagine what we could have done with this in the war!”

“It had crossed my mind,” Crane replied.  “However, this incarnation of the phone has existed for only two decades or thereabouts.”

“And the flashlight?” Hamilton asked.

“I’m hanging up now!” Abbie said loudly and the call ended.

“Hanging up?” Hamilton was already distracted again.

“An anachronism, I believe.  Phones originally required placing the listening apparatus back on a hook, thus hanging up.”

“And flashlights?”

“I don’t actually know the date of their advent.”

“What about slavery?”

“What about it?”

“When was it abolished?”

Crane’s mind sifted through the endless pages of Wikipedia he had absorbed in between fighting evil.  “1863.”

“How well did it go over?”

“The southern states seceded from the north and declared war.  It’s the only Civil War in America’s history, though that had already happened prior to the Emancipation Proclamation.”

“Are we two countries, then?”

“No.  President Lincoln and the North defeated the South and reformed the United States of America.”

“What happened then?”

“Many freed slaves fled north while some of those who had made it north prior to that decided to go back home, though there was an inordinate amount of segregation everywhere, not just in the south and…” Crane trailed off.

“Yes?”

“And the president was assassinated at a theatre in 1865.”

The excitement that had been growing in Hamilton’s face abruptly died.  “Ah.  A dissatisfied southerner, no doubt.”

“Yes.”  Both of them were silent for a few moments, thinking what would have happened to their fledgling country had Washington been killed in battle, let alone assassinated after the fact.

“Anyway, the country has improved by leaps and bounds in regard to equality for women and African Americans and well as those of other nationalities, though immigration has become far more difficult of late.”

“What about my…er, the things I helped to develop?”

Crane’s Eyebrow of Doom went up.

Hamilton didn’t even blush, much.  “I want to know if the things I sacrificed my family to build succeeded.  The National Bank, The New York Post, the Coast Guard, anything, really.”

Cranes mind jumped tracks and riffled through the mental notes all the historical reading he’d done to catch up with modern politics, areas where Wikipedia had been less helpful.  “President Madison maintained a national bank but banks became almost fully privatized when the Second National Bank’s charter expired.”

Hamilton’s face went from nervous, to surprised, to sneering and then to shock.  “James Madison was president?” he asked with no small amount of horror.

“He was, after Jefferson.”

“How dreadful.”  Hamilton licked his lips and added it to the growing list of things to research in the very near future.  He vaguely wondered how much ink this pen held and how easy it would be to refill it.  “Please continue.”

“Erm, the New York Post does still print and the Coast Guard still protects the entire eastern coastline, as well as the western one.”

“Western?  We have a western coast?”

“Ah, yes.  The United States stretches across the continent.”  He played with the smart phone again, bringing up google images.  He typed and then held it out.  “The one in the middle is us and there are now fifty states rather than thirteen.”  Hamilton stared at the map of his country.  “Wondrous,” he whispered, swallowing dryly.  “Tell me…”

He fired questions at Ichabod for another minute, most of which Crane didn’t have answers for, before the Sacristy door opened again and Abbie held out a plastic bag with faded black sweatpants, a grey t-shirt with a Sam Adams Beer logo on it that Hamilton protested and a blue windbreaker.  “Keep your boots,” she said, “Crane spends more than enough time whining about the loss of his.”

“I do not—” Ichabod started hotly, only to be quelled by Abbie’s knowing look, “—whine.”

“Crane, help him.  I’ll be outside.”

“Good to know propriety is still in existence,” Hamilton murmured.

“Only by a small margin,” Crane grumbled back.  “The shirt gets pulled on over you’re your head and the waistband stretches.”

Hamilton managed the clothes with the ease of a man used to changing with the fashions.  With the windbreaker on, he could pass for a jogger who stopped by the church out of curiosity rather than as a parishioner.  He followed Crane and Miss Mills now, taking in the renovations and the electric lights as he went.

“Here we go,” Abbie said as they reached the doors that would lead them outside.

“Once more unto the breach,” Crane replied.

**Author's Note:**

> That's it for now. I may write more or make this a series at some point. I need to decide how to proceed given how they're changing the cast for season 4.


End file.
